Samantha Campbell
Backwoods Boogie
Old souls giving up the ghost
this here ain't no church though just a place where passion and wordless poetry mingle in the hottest of grinds amidst the scent of country magic Dirty folk talk drunk liquor rumors grown folk nasty love makin and the sway of the dirty blues Doin the Backwoods Boogie under the broken moon in the midst of that sad bourbon swoon Slow motion sass big mama backin up all that ass and the voodoo of the night keepin the evil spirits away Bird Song
and love
it was beautiful like calm blue seas that caressed the shores she was baptized in water that hurled itself over steep mountainous cliffs into the tide... and love it was passionate like the fires that burn deeply in the earth's core he was seared in a heat that charred loneliness from the hide... don't tame her the wind chide oh the beauty of peace like gilded doves how rare her uncaged spirit softly sang... fly high young sparrow... don't reframe him let the soul like water flow ridin' that rainbow 'ever it go as 'nother song that bird sing... once they were one flying higher as two are they feelin' it so musical within their 'marrow'... A Sea of Love
The darkness surrounds her
like the cloak of eternal night. The air is thick and cool, The smell of the sea fills her lungs, The taste of salt upon her tongue she wonder's weather its the water or the tears shes cried. And despite the madness around her she longs for her lover. Aches for him to hold her. Remembers his kisses and his touch. Shes drowning in a sea of love consumed by the secret knowledge of her passion. The waves of lust and pain wash over her clinging to her flesh like liquid fire. The sky has fallen in love with her and no matter how bright his heart shines she cannot see the truth for she is blinded by a broken heart. So he tries to shout with thunder but no sound could she hear for she was to far out to hear anything but the sound of the sea screaming. |
Anonymous
The World is Blind
and I am Invisible I dare not even sign my name it will not be seen nor read 21st Century Prophets
We Poets are
21st Century Prophets filling up notebooks and screaming on stages We connect in a fashion as we wear words We dance on pages stripping naked to get you to listen like what we have to say can be heard better by eyes but only 4% of the public suffers with Sinestesia And still we slash our wrists with ballpoint pens to get our souls heard Hanging our pain like paintings in an art exhibit entitled 'Emotional Poets' Wanting Waiting Wishing for an Art Critic to tare us apart Letter by letter word for word Because... Because we are so tightly put together That we love to be torn apart We turn the pain into art and scars into deeply embedded ink wells Don't you see? We 21st Century Prophets hold the keys to our broken heart cages by wielding pens in ways that spark thought Cant you see? Our wrists are still tender yet we slash them open again and again because... Because writers block is a far far worse form of torture And never being read is a fate worse than death Smoke and Ash
I've imagined you
standing before me looking into my eyes as deeply as I look into yours. And with one kiss I am entirely yours... Your hands all over my body discovering the undiscovered. My heart racing My breath trying to catch up. I am overcome by wild and heavy breathing. I regain my composure but not completely, You've rattled me shook me to my core as never before. I slowly put my hand on your chest finding that spot that sets me a fire I can feel your heart beat with desire. Quickly passion possesses us we lay flesh to flesh as wood and fire completely consuming each other until there's nothing left but smoke and ash. |
A Most Beguiling Call
I walked the path
of the waking dead among the lifeless empty and bled Inside my being my heart lay un-beating Til poetry found me and breathed new life into me Laid in deep Paved within Carved and Engraved Upon a soul'd vessel mortal'd in this realm and slightly out of faze Poetry Grows I can feel the flow deep inside as I sip upon each read letting each letter intoxicate me POETRY = Defibrillator Shocked my heart with words now it beats in verbs with a rhythm beyond a normal rhyme Temptation throbs pulsing though out The want of words preying on my hunger now Fervent in the moment moans pound through the sound barrier sonic synaptic surges pulsate thru my brain's pleasure system Poetry your so addictive making me your junkie whore Ink flows in my veins inducing sensual labor thru poetic labyrinths My passion builds as my creation spills dancing on the cusp between want and need towards a most beguiling call P-o-e-t-r-y She sings to me from her Melodic Dream Lounge Eat me Breathe me Ink me Submerge yourself within me B-l-e-n-d-i-n-g you and I Horizon'd between we Illuminations flow internally Taking in each syllable sliding deeper into meaning engulfing me in verbal mist Drips of inspiration Flourishing rotations Pulsating my mental grip See she whispers in echoes Whispers in Echoes Taunting me from an unturned page Persuading me to lay my heart open and bare upon the pages of eternity Thoughts and beats-ONENESS Poetry is Breathless wounds Passion held spellbound in Desires grip Because through it all Poetry saves me And Ill sing Self expression to the end |